


Let Rogers Be Rogers

by Siria



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy wants Steve to stop moping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Rogers Be Rogers

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this photo](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v19/Siria/speechwritersteve.png) of Chris Evans.

Heard from backstage, the rumble of the crowd was like a living thing: a basso vibration of enthusiasm and anticipation that drummed against Steve's ribcage, rippled through the ground beneath his feet. He watched from the wings as first Sam walked on stage, then Pepper, their arms raised in greeting and acknowledgement, and the roar hit Steve like a wave, bearing him up. They'd been through dozens of rallies like this over the past eighteen months, but this moment never got old: getting to see hundreds, thousands of people united and waiting, speaking with one voice.

Steve knew that Tony had run all the numbers many times over; knew that despite all the initial doubt and the snide talk from cable news pundits about the prospects of a white woman and a black man on the same ticket, the odds were good. Pepper had been the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and Sam had saved lives in the skies over Afghanistan. They were committed and trustworthy, they bantered like a dream on camera, and in the aftermath of Pierce's impeachment, they ticked every box that America was looking for in its leaders. 

So the numbers were all good, Iowa was a lock and Ohio tipping inexorably their way. Steve knew that. He was still as nervous as ever as he stood there, though, waiting for Sam to begin, hoping that this wasn't the time Steve had failed to write good words fit for a good man to speak. 

"You know, it's worrisome when I can hear you over a crowd like this," Peggy said from behind him. 

Steve turned and looked at her. "I didn't say anything."

"No," Peggy said, arching an eyebrow. "But I could hear you fretting from all the way over there. It's an excellent speech, Steve, just like always, and there's no point in you standing around and moping about it. You'll discomfit James."

Steve looked over her head to see that Bucky was happily engrossed in flirting with that reporter from MSNBC. Steve didn't think that James Barnes had ever been _discomfited_ about anything in his life, not when they were kids back in Brooklyn, not even when they were sharing a cluttered dorm room and some truly terrible hangovers back at NYU. Still, just like every time Peggy said something with conviction, Steve found himself wanting to agree with her, wanting to follow her wherever she was going to lead him. 

More than one staffer had cursed Steve for a stubborn-minded, self-righteous, intractable son-of-a-bitch—yet when Peggy Carter said "jump", Steve only ever wanted to say, "how high?" He'd been helpless, hopeless about her for months. Now, they'd both been working for twenty hours straight, and in the face of the still-impeccable slash of Peggy's lipstick and the keen, bright look in her eyes, Steve found himself blurting out, "You're going to make a great Chief of Staff, you know that?"

As soon as the words were out, Steve felt his eyes widen and he had to resist the horrified urge to kick himself, because he wanted to be the Director of Speechwriting in an honest-to-god presidential administration and he couldn't control his brain-to-mouth filter. He couldn't even control his _face_ when he was around her, and who knew what he was giving away just then, what he was—

"Oh for goodness' sake," Peggy said, before handing off her tablet to a startled-looking intern and towing Steve away through the bustle and down one of the corridors that led deep into the heart of the stadium. 

"I'm sorry," Steve said, because who knew what she was going to do with him. He'd seen that infamous appearance of hers on _Meet the Press_ ; everyone had. It had gone viral on YouTube and Clint had even tried to nominate it for an Emmy for Outstanding Asskicking on a Sunday Morning Talk Show. "That was a bit—I mean, it's true, but I don't want you to think that I'm, that just because I—"

"I'm going to be charitable and draw a veil over all this," Peggy said, her hand still clamped firmly around his wrist, "because we are both adults and professionals and all this dithering about hasn't exactly reflected well on either of us, has it? But let us start now as we mean to go on. Get in."

Steve was never quite sure how Peggy knew there was a supply closet down that hallway, or where she got the key to it from, or how she knew that the scrape of her nails against the nape of his neck would make his knees threaten to buckle and his breath stutter. He was, as it turned out, downright bewildered by the fact that that shelving unit didn't collapse when Peggy leaned back against it, setting bottles of floor polish to rattling, Steve on his knees in front of her and pushing her skirt up her thighs. Her skin was soft and smooth against his palms and when he put his mouth on her, she let out a moan that almost had him coming in his pants.

"Much better," Peggy said when it was over. She sounded gratifyingly breathless and her curls were in disarray. Her eyes were brighter than ever and Steve knew somehow that this was it: that there was never going to be another woman for him. "And at least you've stopped looking so dejected."

Steve, in fact, was well aware that he must look like a love-struck dope, even when he finally ducked back out into the hallway. Judging by the sounds of applause and the growing musical crescendo, he'd missed both speeches. He couldn't bring himself to care too much, not even when Sam walked past with Riley and a bunch of Secret Service agents and said, "Rogers, you know you've got lipstick on your... well, on your everything, right?"

Maybe he should have felt embarrassed about being caught out in front of the future vice-president of the United States with a red-smeared mouth, but Steve just shrugged and said, "Yes, sir. Seemed a better idea than moping."

"Oh," Sam said, mouth quirking as he shot a knowing look over at Riley, "is that how it is?"

"That's how it is," Steve said, and grinned.


End file.
